Beyond the Reef
by Nan
Summary: This shipper story starts immediately after the events of the season 9 episode "Pulse Rate"
1. Part I

Title: Beyond the Reef Part 1  
  
Author: Nan  
  
Rating: PG-13   
  
Classification: Mac/Harm  
  
Spoilers: Anything up to Pulse Rate in Season 9  
  
Summary: This a little missing scene. Think about Mac in the episode and remember what she said to Harm at the end by the elevator. This takes off from there. Okay?  
  
This is ultimately a shipper story although at first it may seem a little hard on Mac. Warning, if you like only stories about Mac that presents her as superwoman, you may not like this. Personally, I like Mac and Harm as superman and superwoman too. But flawed is interesting as well. As long as they get together in the long run.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
2440 Zulu  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Falls Church, Virginia  
  
Sarah Mackenzie had to stop herself from pushing the door open button on the elevator. She watched as the elevator doors closed slowly, leaving her to watch as Harm turned his shoulder to the door and speak into his cell phone. But she felt sure that call had something to do with this big secret he had. The pregnant Catherine Gale, maybe? She squelched her sudden curiosity. It was none of her business who Harm was talking to. He had a right to his own private life.   
  
Granted, it had taken her a little by surprise when he had asked her to come over for a 'platonic bowl of pasta.' Where had that come from? You work with a guy for almost eight years and you think you know him. After Paraguay, she had thought that Harm couldn't top that. But here he was again, surprising her. After all the mistakes that had come between them lately, she thought he would never want to see her again.  
  
Paraguay. She shook her head and pushed the front doors of JAG's head office open. Why was she now relating every personal incident in her life to that event? It was like terms 2003 AD or 1000 BC. Now Mac divided everything in her life as 'pre Paraguay' or 'post Paraguay.' Well, maybe not everything in her life, just the ones to do with Harm.  
  
Pre Paraguay, Harm was predictable. Pre Paraguay, she always knew that Harm liked her. Very much. But status quo meant that he took her for granted, seeing her as the sister he never had. She was the Laurel to his Hardy, the Robin to his Batman or the Sundance Kid to his Butch Cassidy. She had become resigned to the fact that there was nothing more between them.   
  
Mac had reached her corvette. She bent down and reached for the lock. The epoch 'Post Paraguay', had begun the minute that he had crashed that plane. She had tried everything she could to help him, as he lay unconscious and wedged in the cockpit of the German farmer's crop duster. But 190 pounds of dead weight was just too much for her to handle. She had opted to find help instead. In retrospect, maybe she hadn't been thinking too clearly either. The whole series of events were a blur.  
  
Whatever. When she had next seen him, he was firing his pistol at her. That started the bitterest and most protracted series of angry conversations that had ever occurred between herself and her partner. She only felt shame whenever she thought of it.  
  
That's when the 'post Paraguay' Harm emerged. In 'Pre Paraguay,' Harm was easy going and able to handle anything when that well honed, flyboy charm. Now, he seemed less sure of himself and more guarded. That egotistical jock was gone.  
  
To Mac, Harm surprised her the most the day that they together returned back to JAG. The admiral was doing his typical dressing down of Harm. That's what the admiral did, right? When Harm screwed up, the admiral yelled at him.   
  
But this time, instead of reacting in his usual skillful and deft style, Harm surprised them both. He didn't protest. He just looked at Chegwidden, defeated and told him he was right. That Mac had said he was unchangeable. And then he walked out the door. In subsequent months, the admiral had commented that Harm had gone off the deep end. He had been surprised by that conversation too.  
  
He said that she said he was unchangeable. When had she called him unchangeable? Somehow everything that had happened in Paraguay did not compute.  
  
Unchangeable implied that she had asked him to change for her. And he had failed.  
  
She had never asked him to change. Hell, she had no right to ask anything of him. They were only partners and friends, right?   
  
By somehow saying that he had failed to change for her, he instantly made every comment between them more personal. That all of her years of lighthearted banter toward Harm hadn't been so lighthearted after all. He had taken it all very much to heart. Now it wasn't so funny.  
  
That so wasn't like Harm. Would the real Harm please stand up?   
  
In her defense it was Harm who had set up the parameters of their partnership. Years ago, after their first rancorous case opposing each other, she had accused him of making it too personal. He had laughed it off. What had he said?  
  
"A place where friends don't do that to friends? Where is that? Somewhere in Ohio?"   
  
So, she had taken her clue from him and toughened up. She learned not to take thing so personally. It had been good advice. The armed forces could be a cruel place if you thought too much about stuff.   
  
So why was everything suddenly so personal with Harm? Mac shook her head as she pulled her car into the underground parking of her building.  
  
Take this last case. She had handled that well, she told herself. Harm said the only reason she had charged Petty Officer Yates with involuntary manslaughter was because she was a reformed alcoholic. The theory went that as a reformed addict, she couldn't be unbiased about his addiction. But it wasn't that at all. He could make choices. It was in his power not to smoke. Yates was just weak.  
  
Look at her. She used to be an addict. But with a little help from the Marine Corps and her uncle, she turned herself around. It was just a case of mind over matter.   
  
In fact, recently she herself, had proved that very fact. One of Clay's passions was his wine collection. And he expected her to share in it with him. He didn't think it would hurt if she took the odd sip of fine wine. It meant so much to him.  
  
And she did it. She took the occasional glass of wine. It was just a case of mind over matter. She was so over the alcoholic thing. She had proven to herself once and for all, that she could just walk away from it. One glass of wine when she had a date with Clay. Only one.   
  
It had stung a bit when Harm had made that 'reformed addict' accusation in the courtroom. If he could only see what she saw. Yates knew he could stop if he really wanted to. He was just weak minded. She was living proof. But Harm was still thinking the old way.  
  
She knew that it wasn't only Harm that saw her as the over-reacting addict. Bud and the admiral had thought so too. But she had proved them all wrong in the long run. She had magnanimously forgiven Harm for his reckless comment and she also proved that she was unbiased about Yates. When the trail had gone cold against Yates and another suspect turned up, she quickly dropped the charge. Yates went free. There was no vendetta against Yates. Although, for the Navy's sake, it would have been better if he had been charged. Attitudes like his need to be weeded out.  
  
Mac turned the key and opened the door to her apartment. Through the gloom, she saw her message light blinking on the answering machine by the phone. She dropped her purse and keys on the table in the hall and walked over. She punched the button and reviewed her messages.  
  
"Sarah, I missed my connection out of Heathrow. It looks like I'm stuck here overnight. Sorry to cancel on you again." Mac could hear voices and music in the background of Clay's message.   
  
'You could at least be calling me from your lonely hotel room,' she thought, frustrated. In the last two months, she had seen him only once. Six months ago, he had been telling her that he couldn't live without her. Now? They were lucky if they got together at all.  
  
She walked into her bedroom. Now, that 'platonic bowl of pasta' was sounding better and better. Maybe she should call Harm.   
  
No! If that had been Catherine Gale on the cell phone to Harm, he would already have other plans. And wouldn't he just love to know that her dinner date with Clay had been cancelled? Again?  
  
She grabbed slacks and a sweater from her dresser. She would go for a walk and get a bite to eat. After all, Georgetown was beautiful at Christmas time. Lately, she had enjoyed walking the decorated streets, looking into the beautiful shops and restaurants. A brisk walk would clear her mind.  
  
Mac made her way toward Wisconsin Avenue and M Street. She tried to concentrate on the colorful storefronts. She paused for a minute at Restoration Hardware, looking at the window display.   
  
A thought rose unbidden in her mind. 'Chump.'  
  
Okay, okay. She had to face it. This dating thing with Clay was not going well. Mac, who had been so reluctant at first to enter a relationship with Clay, was now wondering what the hell was going on.   
  
She had been reluctant. She knew Clay. Mac knew that his mother was the most important female relationship in his life. She knew that he was a classic 'jet setter.' Anytime she had ever seen Clay, he had a new woman on his arm. Each one more beautiful than the last.  
  
But Clay had been so different in Paraguay. He had needed her. She had needed him. He had told her that he loved her. Unreserved. With passion. He had gone through the gates of hell for her. She had heard his screams.   
  
When he had been in the hospital, he had called her every day. He had insisted that she visit him. He had sent her flowers. When they went out together, it was always the best. Best restaurants, best food, best wine. Everything was wonderful.   
  
But now? Somehow the passions of Paraguay had faded. Already.  
  
Mac started to walk again. 'The Georgetown Hotel' was a place she hadn't been for a long time. She knew that it's antique furniture and historic rooms would look gorgeous decked out with Christmas trees and balsam wreaths. She turned toward the hotel entrance.   
  
She stood just inside the foyer, trying to decide where to head next. There was the lobby bar on one side. It overlooked the snowy streets and bright red and green lights of Georgetown. "I'll get a bite to eat there,' she thought. A light snowfall was just beginning.  
  
*******   
  
0355 Zulu  
  
The Georgetown Hotel  
  
Harmon Rabb stomped his snowy boots as he stepped inside the foyer of 'The Georgetown Hotel.' It was official. Winter had come to Washington with a vengeance. He shook the last flakes of snow off the shoulders of his coat.  
  
He had seen her from the street. Mac was sitting in a comfortable upholstered chair at a small table near the large fireplace in one corner of the hotel bar. On the table in front of her was a stemmed glass full of red wine.  
  
He stood for a moment just watching her. She was staring unseeing into the flickering flames. 'God, she looks beautiful,' he thought.  
  
He had been looking for her. If he hadn't seen her from the street, he would have never thought to come in here. But here she was.  
  
Every since USS Gillcrist, he had this uneasy feeling. Like something was wrong. But he shook it off. After all, it had been hard for him to be objective about her lately.   
  
But her strident accusations about PO Yates got him thinking. This wasn't like Mac. Sure, she was capable of taking a hard line with anyone. But in the case of Yates, there was little logic about her point of view. It was almost like she had to prove something. What? After his phone call with Catherine this evening, it finally hit him. That's when he went searching for her.   
  
As he weaved his way through the tables toward her, he thought about what he would say. Certainly nothing like that Einstein remark he made in the courtroom. He cursed himself for being so stupid.  
  
"Mac?" he started slowly. He eased himself into the chair next to her.   
  
She tore her gaze away from the fire. Her pupils were big and unfocussed.  
  
"Harm?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Looking for you, he thought. Aloud he said, "Just passing by. I saw you from the street."  
  
"Where's Catherine?" she asked.  
  
"Who?" said Harm puzzled.  
  
"Catherine Gale. I assumed that was who you were talking to on the phone? Did you have your bowl of pasta with her?" Mac returned her gaze to the fire.  
  
"Oh. Yes, it was Catherine on the phone. No, I didn't have pasta with her. She is in London," he said, softly.  
  
"Ooooh," said Mac. Then realization hit her. "With Clay?"  
  
"Yes, with Clay," said Harm.  
  
"Clay and Catherine," mused Mac. She raised the glass of wine to her lips and took a sip. "See, Harm? I told you it was a matter of choice. I've only had three glasses of wine tonight. I can walk away at any time. Three? No, four."  
  
Harm waited.  
  
"Are you the father of Catherine's baby?" she asked.   
  
"No." he said. "We never had that kind of relationship."  
  
She continued to stare into the fire. "Is Clay...?"  
  
"I don't know. They are in England working together. That's all I know," said Harm.  
  
"Oh," she said. "You knew my date with Clay was cancelled."  
  
"Yes," he said.  
  
She looked up at him defiantly. "Don't feel sorry for me, Commander. All my boyfriends are either dead or wish they were, right?"  
  
Harm was silent for a minute. Then, "Not exactly true, Colonel."  
  
She looked at him ironically, "Not exactly?"  
  
He returned her look. "I know one who isn't alive unless he's with you."  
  
She stood up abruptly from her chair, swaying slightly. "Oh no you don't. You aren't allowed to do that."  
  
"Not allowed to do what?" He followed her as she walked through the bar. She was moving quickly.   
  
"Imply something," she said heading for the door. "Can you get me a cab?" she asked the doorman.  
  
"I'm not trying to imply anything!" he said reaching out to stop her.   
  
"Yes you are. You're trying to imply that we have something. Well, we don't have anything!" She evaded his outstretched arm and ducked through the revolving door. Emerging from the other side, she said, "Taxi!"  
  
Harm dived into the revolving door and looked for her. She was standing on the curb with her arms wrapped around her, looking for a cab. Mac had left her coat and purse in the bar.  
  
He walked angrily over to where she stood. "Oh no you don't!" he said, taking his jacket off. He swung the coat over her shoulders, wrapping it tightly around her like a mummy. His hands held the two ends tightly as he dragged her over to a nearby pillar.   
  
He continued to hold the ends tightly. He moved his head until as he tried to look into her averted eyes. Finally, she raised her gaze to his.  
  
"Don't put words in my mouth. I didn't imply anything. I meant what I said." Harm spat out the words.  
  
"What did you say?" she asked, almost childlike.  
  
"That I feel alive with you. Only with you," he said.  
  
She stomped her foot in frustration. "What does that mean? That's almost as bad as - 'You'll always have someone who loves you!'" Flakes of snow were starting to cover her hair.  
  
"It means what it means! I love you! What more do you want from me!" Harm was getting more and more frustrated with the squirming bundle held tight by the ends of his coat.  
  
All of a sudden, she stopped struggling. She looked at him and said "I do want more! I want to know why. Why?"  
  
"Why? Why what?"  
  
"Why do you love me?"  
  
"Why? I don't know. Why do you need to hear why?" He drew his bundle closer to him.  
  
"I don't know why. I just do. Why?" she asked again.  
  
Harm drew a deep breath. She had to be one of the most annoying women on the face of the earth. A beautiful, intelligent, brave, frustrating woman.   
  
"Why do I love you? Because even when you tell me never, I can't let go. I couldn't even convince six month pregnant Catherine Gale to go out with me. Why? Cause I can never stop loving you. And she knew it."   
  
Mac relaxed slightly. "She wouldn't go out with you?"  
  
"No."  
  
Mac smiled at him. "We're both soooo pathetic." She swayed slightly, her body weighing more heavily in his hands. Harm looked around. The doorman signaled to him and gestured toward a waiting cab. He dragged over to the open door and put her inside.   
  
"Wait a minute. I need to get her coat," he told the taxi driver. He ran inside to retrieve the missing items. When he returned, her head was leaning against the seat back and her eyes were closed. She was asleep.  
  
He gave the driver the address to his loft apartment. It was selfish on his part but if she woke up now, she would at least have to spend the night with him. Maybe somehow, that would give him a chance to make sure her morning regrets didn't misinterpret the events of this night. He tucked his arms around her and Mac's head lolled onto his shoulder. 


	2. Part II

Title: Beyond the Reef - Part 2  
  
Author: Nan  
  
Rating: PG-13   
  
Classification: Mac/Harm  
  
Spoilers: Anything up to Pulse Rate in Season 9  
  
*********************************************   
  
Mac woke with a start. It was the old reoccurring missionary dream again. She is back in Paraguay, hands tied behind her back. Sadiq is leading her toward the torture shed. They pause to watch the execution of the two missionaries. Just as the gun is being put to base of Mrs. Robinson's skull, she turns to look at Mac. "Hatred," she says to Mac. "We have all learned hatred." Her eyes start to glow and her face fills the image in Mac's head until there is nothing else. She turns away and looks down at her hands. They are covered with blood. Mac shuddered.  
  
There are heavy shades covering the large windows. The room was still dark, even though her internal clock was saying it was 0746. She looked around, trying to orient herself.   
  
She was lying alone in Harm's bed in his apartment. Memories of last night's encounter with Harm at The Georgetown come flooding back. Vaguely, she remembered flopping down on the bed and Harm insisting that she change out of her clothes and into a T shirt of his. After that? Nothing. She must have fallen asleep.  
  
0746! She was going to be late for work! Mac swung her legs over to the side of the bed, testing her motor skills after last night's fiasco. She needed to hurry. Where were her clothes?  
  
Mac looked around the louvered barrier that separated Harm's bedroom from the rest of the apartment. He was sitting by the gas fireplace, dressed in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. He had his guitar under one arm and he was studying a sheet of music. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the small table next to him.  
  
She cleared her throat. "Harm? Do you know where my clothes are? I need to get going. Time to go to work."  
  
Harm jerked a thumb in the direction of the small anti-room that was his laundry. "In there," he said. "They were wet last night. And no, we're not late. Take a look outside."  
  
She looked over to the window behind him. The buildings and streets were blanketed with a thick covering of snow. She watched as three men dug out a car from a snow bank. Besides that activity, the streets were silent. Large flakes of snow were still falling.  
  
"I called the office," said Harm. "Liberal leave policy in effect. Court is cancelled for the day. The admiral doesn't want anyone to come in unless absolutely necessary. The roads are a mess."  
  
"Oh," she said, trying to digest this information. She walked toward the laundry, trying not to feel awkward. It was just Harm, right? Grabbing her clothes, she went back to his bedroom to change.  
  
"You're welcome to a shower, if you want. Sorry, no bathtub here," he called to her.  
  
"It's okay. A shower's fine," she said rolling her eyes in the thought of taking a bath in this open concept apartment. There weren't enough bubbles on the face of the earth to protect her from this uneasy feeling. She needed to escape to her own place and lick her wounds.  
  
As the water sprayed over her, she forced herself to think about last night. She sifted through the events. The muddying effect of the alcohol meant the encounter with Harm was unclear. What exactly had they talked about? Somehow, she was left with the impression that if she could remember, it would be significant.  
  
Harm. She couldn't decide if he was the best possible person to find her or the worse. Her pride was taking a beating but she knew, without question, he would be discrete. Why was she so conflicted about the man?  
  
She was already mentally rehearsing her speech to the Thursday night AA meeting in the basement of the First Baptist Church in Georgetown. "I am an alcoholic. And I needed to be reminded of that. Last night I fell off the wagon. I had convinced myself that I was in control. That I could take a drink and still be responsible. I failed to recognize that bad things could trigger a relapse. I believed I was superwoman."   
  
There would be a lot of juicy details to this confession. It would be a long night. But she knew the people would understand. Thank God for that.  
  
She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, squeezing out the last remnants of shampoo. She hoped the meeting wouldn't be canceled because of snow. She needed them.  
  
As she finished dressing, she prepared herself for her first challenge. She had to face Harm. Wasn't she the one who claimed they both wanted to be on top? Well, she was definitely not on top here. She had dropped so low that even the bottom feeders couldn't find her.  
  
As she emerged from the bedroom she could hear the tinkling of glass bottles. Harm was standing in front of the sink. As she got closer, she could see him pouring a bottle of scotch down the drain. Beside him on the counter, empty bottles of beer stood like soldiers.   
  
Mac felt heat creep up her neck and over her face. He didn't have to do that. She had a problem, not him. "Harm," she said in protest. "That's not necessary."  
  
He turned to look at her. "You want some coffee?" he asked.  
  
"Definitely," she said. "Look, I appreciate the gesture. I'm okay. I've learned my lesson. I've already made plans to go to AA tonight."  
  
He reached for the pot and a mug. Glancing over to the bottles, he said, "That wasn't for you. Last night got me thinking. I've been doing a lot of drinking lately. Most of it alone in this apartment playing the guitar. Maybe you're not the only one with issues."  
  
She looked at him quizzically. "Just when you think you have Harmon Rabb all figured out. This isn't a competition thing, is it? We are not fighting about how low we can both sink, are we?"  
  
He smiled at her. It was the first natural smile she had seen in days. Weeks, maybe. "Hell, no. You always manage to do this in a most spectacular fashion. You can have the top on this one. But when it comes to destroying government hardware, my numbers have you beat, any day."  
  
She sat down at a stool at the counter and matched his smile with one of her own. "You crash another plane when you were flying with the spooks?"  
  
"No ma'am. I have six months of clean flying," he said reaching for the refrigerator door. "Here's a bottle of water," he said tossing a bottle of Deer Springs. "Hydrating will make you feel better."  
  
Mac opted to sip the hot coffee first. "Is there anyway I can get through the snow and home to my apartment?" she asked.  
  
A hurt expression flickered across Harm's face. Then it was gone. "I think the main roads have been plowed. The four wheel drive of the Lexus can make through the side streets. Sure, I guess. What's your hurry?" he asked.  
  
"Get some clean clothes and crash on the couch, I guess," she lied.   
  
"Okay," he reluctantly agreed. "I'll get my boots and coat."  
  
She watched as he walked around the apartment. Their brief moment had passed and his mouth was now set in a grim line. He picked up her brown coat and purse and handed them to her.  
  
"Let's go," he said.  
  
She looked at the coat and purse in her hands and the incident by the entrance of the hotel came flooding back. She had been wrapped tightly in his overcoat and he was telling her that he loved her.  
  
She stood rooted to the ground. He had opened the door to the apartment and was waiting for her to exit.  
  
"Wait," she said still looking at her purse and coat.  
  
"What?" Harm asked.  
  
"You told me something last night. What was it?" she asked, looking up at him.  
  
"I said a lot of things last night. So did you."  
  
"This one was important. You said you loved me," she said trying to pin him with a look.  
  
He evaded her eyes and looked beyond her toward the window. "I did," he said quietly.  
  
"Did you mean it?" she asked.  
  
"I never make a promise I can't keep and I don't say things I don't mean," he said.  
  
"Why?" she asked.  
  
He gave a slight smile. "We covered that last night."  
  
"We did?" she said. "What did you say?"  
  
"In retrospect, nothing very profound. I thought of a better answer this morning," Harm said taking a couple of steps toward her. The door swung slowly closed behind him.   
  
"And?" He was now standing arms length in front of her.  
  
"Because, Sarah Mackenzie, you are woven into the fabric of my life. In ways you can never imagine." He still stood there, hands at his side.  
  
She looked at him. "Oh," she said. "Shouldn't we be sealing this with a kiss or something?"  
  
He cocked his head to one side. "I don't know, should we?"  
  
She launched herself forward into his arms and looked up at him. He was smiling. "Oh, yes," she said. "I love you, Harm."  
  
"Thank God," was all he said as he bent forward to kiss her. 


End file.
